


Blank

by Simplistically_Arid



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Boys Kissing, Existential Crisis, M/M, Realization, Slight angst/ comfort, just kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simplistically_Arid/pseuds/Simplistically_Arid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every breath he took from me turned my body colder and in return made me cling to the warm corpse even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank

Every breath he took from me turned my body colder and in return made me cling to the warm corpse even more.   
The soft thudding of his heart could be heard as if it were a watch keeping perfect time. Long slender hands held onto my waist as I took in the sight of the thing I created before me. I had made this being and it was my irresponsibility that made it what it is today. My first thought was why I made it so tall. I had to sit on a table to even try to meet it face to face.  
It is a he....and I think he is wonderful. My hands can’t stop fluttering over my creation, they dance to and fro from the chest I had to carry in the middle of the night, to the arms I took from a musician. Hearing him speak for the first time made my heart stop and I thought I would die. I never knew what voice box he carried. I remember choosing his face, it haunted my sleep since the first time I saw it on a young man who I happened upon in the hospital. I had to make a few stiches here and there to help support the muscles, but I made them as small as possible. It won’t stop staring at me. This is the first time we truly met. The first time It met me I ran, I was afraid. I had done the impossible and created life that was not God's creation, it was mine.  
It is a he...and he is now touching my face.  
He has lived a full year without me. I remember his skin being more yellow but now I notice it almost like he is bruised. He is gentle which is a surprise, these same hands now caressing my skin are the same that killed William. It’s a distant thought now and my anger cannot rise above the other emotions that are swirling through my head.  
It..He..It takes its time, like a topographer creating a map. Fingers making delicate patterns down my neck and touching the rough cotton of my shirt. I wish I could think of a conversation to have with him. I try to compose a sentence in my head but my mouth is too dry to speak.  
I give up in many failed attempts and I think it noticed. Did it just laugh? How much more capable is this being?  
Not only can it be angry but it can be happy. It has known sadness, joy, heart ache, the simple times of a sunny afternoon. Could it know love? It certainly knew hatred but then again so did I. If it wanted to murder me he would have done so by now. He, for his gender is male and not an It. He, at the moment, holds me close. My face is wet...am I crying? Should I feel that sorry for this miserable being? Or do I feel sorry for both he and I, for the choice I made in creating him. A sob escapes my dry mouth and I cling to him more.  
I wish I could apologize but I can't. He wanted companionship, to be recognized by man. I rejected him and yet he stands before me. I don't dare reject it...him again  
I can feel the inner turmoil inside of him. Hatred being replaced by the new feeling. The same feeling that is bubbling inside of me. Is it Peace? Relief? I hear him sigh and find myself looking into the yellow eyes I ran away from on the first day. How does he feel to know that his creator, his giver of life, can fall so low. It is said in the Holy Bible that the All Mighty Infinite Father does cry for our being, but I do not think he ever cried because of himself.  
What was I to expect when I felt the brush of his cracked lips against my soft human flesh. It was just my cheek, my body burns as if I have a fever. He does it a second time, on my forehead. Does he want me to do the same to him? His eyes are wide as a barn owls when my quivering lips rest upon the side of his chin. For that was where I could reach. He takes the hint and bends a little lower, again my cursed quivering lips tremble as they touch his face. This is beyond nerves.  
I pray he does not kiss my lips.  
His fingers intertwine with mine and he holds my hands, almost like one holds fine china. Am I that breakable? Does he really feel like he could end my life with one snap of his wrists?  
Oh no. He kisses my hands like a gentleman does for a lady. Slowly, as if he's draining the life from my body. I cannot take those yellow eyes upon me. Dam my beating heart. I feel as if I have fallen into his trap. No do not come closer. No do not caress my soft skin with your rough yet beautiful fingers. Do not play idly with my hair that I refuse to cut for idiotic purposes. How dare you inspire a moan to slip from my lips while knowing full well you were the one who played it out of me. You kiss my palm lightly and I feel as if I am melting. I do not care how gentle this creature can be, he is still a killing machine.  
Should I turn the tables? Let my hands run through his raven hair? As if moving on their own my hands feel the silkiness of his hair and I am surprised. Now it is my turn. He growls and I shudder. The chill down my spine excites me and scares me at the same time. Taking one hand, I kiss all five of his fingers. Heat is returning to my face. Stop looking at me. I wish to hide, like the game of my childhood. Hide and never be found. And if I am found I wish he wouldn't be there. Is he leaning towards me? Are my prayers being unanswered? Afraid I do not close my eyes and any breath I am about to take is gone. It started as a light brush, leading into a gentle push that slowly grew into a raging desire. I grasped for anything I could hold, I could feel my nails digging into the back of his neck. The heat radiating from the hands on my back urged me forward in both body and emotion. In this single moment I felt I could touch the stars. I was left panting for breath and yet he was fit as a horse.  
Again the reaction occurred. He moans and the sound vibrates throughout my whole body.  
I accidentally bite his lip and he mumbled something into my mouth. I could taste his words and had to laugh. "That's not polite," I whisper and can feel him smile. We rest once more, our foreheads touching, my short breaths hit his skin and I swore left a small red mark somewhere in the mixes of purples, yellows, blues. I can feel the question lingering between us. Slowly forming like a thought and ready to take the shape of a few letters to make words. Those words need to be spoken aloud, else I will wake up tomorrow with a broken heart, his more shattered than mine.  
Our mouths open at the same time but my words are faster than his. "You cannot leave".  
Followed quickly with "I need you."  
To in which replied, "I will die if I lose you." And was rebutted, "You will die if you had me." Shocked words said. "All the more to stay with me." A gasp entered the conversation. A second ticked by. "I am hated."  
"One learns to love." Silence stands between us. Questioning eyes flitter back and forth on me. "Can it be done?" A loaded question. He might as well be pointing a gun to my head. One wrong word and we return to the normal state of creature and creator, forever loathing the other for our pains and misery. My word decides all. "It" I pause for a minute as my brain tries to think of all outcomes. It is blank as a white wall. "Can" I finally say? I do not know if the weight of the world is off my shoulders or if I am being chained to a doomed fate. As he kisses me for the last time I can feel his happiness. The relief of finally being accepted, to have something of his own.  
I wonder what he tastes from me.


End file.
